#altkiller

〝 no – was figuring i’d have to repeat myself a few times before you started listening. 〞 posture was SLUMPED - sunken into the couch. composure was similar to that of a marionette that’d been left behind backstage, all tension sapped and left to the will of gravity. thick, jet-black aviators veiled his eyes - a protective measure as he nursed a hangover that likes of which would likely prompt a normal person to make a visit to the ER. 

his right hand clutched a metal-plated lighter, idly fidgeting with it as the flame flickered on and off. red & blue hues that hovered a little too closely to his pant legs. a dumb grin evolved, his head moving upward - breaking its downward gaze. he snapped to life, legs now resting upon the coffee table. his muddied boots clamped down on the glass-top, with LITTLE CARE for whatever items and keepsakes he’d just trampled under foot.

〝 it’s funny – KERRY said the same thing. between the two of you its like being stuck in a bad BD. 〞 soon enough he was on his feet ( in defiance of most commonly understood conceptions of medical science ) hands reaching for a crumbled pack of cigarettes he’d left on the counter-top.

                 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒚, even the flesh they wore could easily be sold, stripped apart && rebuilt together. For a moment, she stands there with metallic claws tapping against her forearm, then laughter echoes. “Well of course, there’s a business behind it after all” she recalls her own idleness, leading to boredom that pierced deep within the frontal lobe, obtaining a dream is certainly dull. Somehow, the chase was far more interesting, life that was spent on the grime colored streets painted in neon, another rockerboy lying in her ear with promise of fame, she took whatever was given to become the fixture that stands before them.

   Too bad she didn’t remember her own face anymore, sculpt after sculpt, another illusion that was woven into her structure when she became restless, that was the nature of Alice slipping away into her own dreamland. “Why do you think this city continues to burn? You can profit over souls that have lost their way, everything at our fingertips, with nothing of our own. "She loves conversations like this, where the synapsis of her brain begins to form && every cell is electrified. In between arrangements, the sugary sweet lies from another suit or whatever nonsense another pretty face tells her, there is an organic nature to speaking in dead languages.

   “Isn’t that why you run the net? Chasing another rush that cannot easily be obtained amongst the living. Then, there is me who runs in a den of vipers knowing fully well they’ll kill me someday” she was never an ignorant young girl with her head high in the sky, kissing stars whenever she thought possible. For most BD actresses, they fade out, beloved muses that become discarded with the next plastic imagery to grace the screens. Everything that was fleeting && temporary, she didn’t mind, it was similar to another death; the cycle of rebirth. “At the core, we can moralize it till we’re exhausted, the truth is we want to feel alive, anything but sinking knowledge of what surrounds us, corps know it - you && I do as well. Our paths may not be similar, though we still seek the same thing just in different forms” she didn’t know yet if her extremism was a form of cathartic healing or self destruction; the ladder would be chosen. There’s a glimmer of a smile that paints across crimson lips, shiny && tight, with a hint of amusement in her gaze. The space between them is deafening as the melancholic music continues to play, only then does she break it, snickering as her head shakes.

       “You’re fun to speak with, I don’t like anyone that tries to win me over instantaneously - they are full of deceit && cannot best a liar. I wonder what else that brilliant mind of yours is hiding?”